But she was rather afraid of the self-possession of the Morels, father and all.

She took their tone; there was a feeling of balance.

It was a cool, clear atmosphere, where everyone was himself, and in harmony.

Clara enjoyed it, but there was a fear deep at the bottom of her.
Paul cleared the table whilst his mother and Clara talked.

Clara was conscious of his quick, vigorous body as it came and went, seeming blown quickly by a wind at its work.